


Of shelter and homes

by Chim



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Angry fluffball Steve, Bucky Barnes Feels, Cat Bucky Barnes, Dog Steve Rogers, Familiar Bucky Barnes, Familiar Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Lonely Bucky Barnes, M/M, Sassy Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chim/pseuds/Chim
Summary: Bucky has been alone for a long time: his witch was gone, no one could be trusted. He'd lived a lonely, quiet life, surrounded by the reminders of his happier past.Then he just had to go and get involved with an angry familiar who'd gotten himself into trouble.Or: Bucky is lonely and goodhearted, Steve is way too scrappy for his size. They find each other.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91
Collections: Stucky Remix 2020





	Of shelter and homes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aquatigermice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatigermice/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Shelter Through the Storm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860997) by [Aquatigermice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatigermice/pseuds/Aquatigermice). 



> This is a remix of [Shelter Through The Storm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860997/chapters/36045300) by [Aquatigermice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquatigermice/profile), made for the [Stucky Remix 2020](https://stuckyremix.tumblr.com/). Aquatigermice, your fic was lovely, I had a lot of fun twisting it into this!  
> Embedded at the beginning of the fic you'll also find a little moodboard I made.

Someone was making a ruckus down in the street.

Bucky initially ignored it, mostly because it was not his business. In that side of town you didn’t go stick your nose in other people’s problems, not unless you didn’t want to make that problem your own. The only reason he got up at all was to close the window.

“You let me out!” a male voice was yelling, his words strangely mixed with the furious yapping of a small dog. “We’ll see if you’re so bold then! You spineless sons of-” Metal rattled violently, and both the words and the barking cut off with a yelp.

“Shut this thing up,” another male, gruffier voice snapped. “It’s making too much noise. Shut it up before I do it permanently.”

Bucky had always been curious though. And a little reckless.

Hiding in the window’s frame he looked down and saw two shadows – human, both male, big, one was holding a cage full of yapping golden familiar – disappear into a side door in the alley. They shut the door and the noises became too faint to distinguish.

Heart hammering in his chest, Bucky gave his back to the alley and just stared blankly for a few moments, his surrounding blurred and distant.

It’d been so long since the last time he saw another familiar. And that one had been so clearly in distress. But he couldn’t help… could he? He fiddled with the bracelet around his left wrist, five strings of black leather tightly braided around two small red stones.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he murmured as he closed his eyes to focus. Familiar magic surrounded him, warm and loving, undoing the spell that granted him human form.

The change felt natural, his body returning at its normal state of being. Bucky felt a spark of dread arise in his chest, as it happened each and every time he changed: what if the magic failed? He’d get stuck with fur, four legs and a tail forever, unable to get back to his human form.

Tail swishing nervously, Bucky jumped on the windowsill and then down, landing gracefully on the fire escape. He reached the floor of the alley in a few more jumps, nose wrinkling at the unflattering smells clinging to it. He approached the other building, looking for a way in. The air was frigid, the sky hidden by grey clouds. There was probably snow on the way.

Whatever those two men had been doing with that familiar it was bound to be nothing good. Bucky wasn’t sure why he cared, but he did. That was why he was crawling through a broken window, carefully avoiding stabbing himself with the pointy shards of glass, to get into a horrible, shady, smelly building.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the room: empty except for a cluttered desk, a chair and a couple metal cabinets. The door was cracked open, no light leaking through. Bucky heard some more angry growling coming from further ahead, and silently crept forward.

He found the two guys smoking in what could pass for a living room, one sprawled on a musty couch and the other at a table, frowning down at his cellphone.

“Don’t see what’s so important about some mutt,” the one on the couch said, waving his hand in the air. It was bandaged. “Those things are useless without a witch to use them.”

Bucky went still for a moment, pain blossoming in his chest, then continued towards the short hallway leading to three different doors. He was worried about having to cross the room to get to it, but his dark fur melded well with the darkness – and the men were both distracted.

“I honestly don’t care.” The other began typing out a text, still frowning. “Only thing I care about is they come and take that little devil out of our hands.” 

“Hey, I’m the one who got bit!”

“You deserved it, reaching into the cage like that.”

“I made him quiet, didn’t I?”

Now in the hallway and out of the men’s sight, Bucky considered the three doors. As he was about to randomly decide which one to try first, growling erupted from behind the middle one. Bucky jumped, grabbing the handle with two paws and dragging it down. The door opened with a quiet creaking sound.

“Back for more?” the same male voice that’d been yelling earlier growled.

“Quiet,” Bucky hissed back. “Let’s try and _not_ get immediately caught, alright?”

The room was small and dim, no windows, clearly a broom closet. In the middle of the floor there was a wire cage; the dog inside it – medium size, golden fur, a muzzle keeping his mouth tightly shut – regarded him with clear suspicion, but at least he stopped growling.

“Who are you?” he asked, switching to the mental communication familiars could exchange when they were close enough.

Bucky shivered. How long had it been? Felt like years. “I’m trying to help you,” he answered, approaching the cage. It opened with a key. He tried to force it open, but it didn’t budge.

“Seriously pal, did you think I hadn’t thought of that?” the dog commented drily. “It’s sturdier than it looks.”

“Keep that up and I might reconsider saving your fluffy butt, punk.” Hating that he had to do it, Bucky pressed his left paw against the lock and focused, feeling magic sparkle under his toes. After a second it clicked open.

The other familiar tilted his head. “Neat trick,” he said, tail wagging once. “Can you do anything about this damn muzzle?”

To reach the straps Bucky had to basically climb on the other’s back. His fur puffed out in agitation, but he put his front paws on the dog and unlatched the cursed thing with his teeth.

“Thanks.” Tail wagging again, the dog shook off the muzzle. “I’m Steve, by the way. Your witch must be pretty close, will they get us out?”

Bucky hissed quietly, unable to help himself. “No. We’ll have to sneak out on our own.”

“Alright.” Steve accepted it easily. He pulled back his lips, showing sharp white teeth. “I’d like to bite some fingers off though.”

“Punk, you’re like twenty pounds wet, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Watch me.”

Bucky quickly placed himself between Steve and the door. “I didn’t risk myself coming in here and saving you just so you could ruin it by jumping at the nearest throat.” What kind of bloodthirsty familiar had he stumbled into? Maybe there’d been a valid reason they’d put him in that cage.

After a long, tense moment, Steve seemed to calm down. “You’re right.” His fur slowly came down and he grinned. “So, kit, what’s your plan?”

“This has been a mistake.”

Steve’s grin widened. “I don’t know your name, so I’ll make do with what I know.”

“Name’s Bucky, you little punk.” But it felt good to talk with someone after all that time alone. He turned, tail swishing in Steve’s face. “Follow me, pupper.” He stifled a laugh at Steve’s soft growl.

Sneaking out with a blond-haired dog in tow was way more difficult than sneaking in; Bucky had to use another spark of magic to manage it without alerting the two humans. Once they were in the alley he hesitated for a moment before climbing up the fire escape. “Come up here, it’s safe.”

Steve followed him inside the apartment, curiously looking around. “Do you live here? Right in front of some kidnappers?”

“It’s them who live right in front of me,” Bucky grumbled, wondering if he’d made the right choice by bringing Steve there. Too late to regret that, probably. “Get comfortable, but don’t touch anything. Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, thank you.” Steve laid down on the carpet in front of Bucky’s favorite loveseat. His blue eyes were once again roaming around the apartment. Bucky did his best to keep it tidy and clean, to keep the plants alive and cared for, the herbs hanging above the kitchen counter fresh. But he could do nothing to slow the effects of time, and he knew it showed in the way the wallpaper was peeling off in some places, how the wooden floors were faded and dull, the furniture worn out.

Bucky considered staying in his cat form, to hide his secret for a little longer, but then decided he didn’t care enough and went back to being human.

“Woah.” Steve let out a weird little huff. “So, your witch’s nearby, uh? Can you call mine, so she can reach us and we’ll beat up some bad guys together?”

Instant dread crawled down Bucky’s spine. “She can’t come here,” he snapped. “I don’t want witches here.”

He sensed Steve’s caution as the dog lifted himself up from the carpet. “Why?” he asked, way too calmly. When Bucky remained silent, Steve lowered his ears and let out another huff, almost a growl: “Bucky, is your witch hurting you? Are you afraid of them? Do you need help?”

Bucky couldn’t help but sneer. “My witch was a good person,” he hissed, anger bubbling up in his chest despite his best efforts. “No matter what you all say about him.”

“Was?” Steve repeated, clearly confused.

“Other witches came and killed him. Said they were keeping everyone safe, but they were _lying_.”

Steve lay back down, relaxed, signaling that he didn’t want to fight. “But you can still change and do magic.”

“He knew they would come.” Feeling shaky all of a sudden Bucky sat in his loveseat, trying to get himself under control. “I thought they would help him, because witches are supposed to help their own, but he knew he would die. So he made me this.” He tapped his bracelet, dragged the tip of his finger on one of the stones. “He knew I would hate being a cat for the rest of my life.”

It was technically blood magic, technically illegal, but Bucky didn’t care. It wasn’t hurting anyone. Steve could fight him if he had any problems with it.

“That’s why you helped me, isn’t it?” Steve asked, although he must’ve noticed the bracelet’s nature. “We look out for our own.”

Bucky looked away. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “I don’t know why they had you in a cage, but yeah. We do.” Familiars were so rare already; he couldn’t just look the other way when one of his own was so clearly in trouble.

“My witch is going against some bad people who just happen to have important positions in our society.” There was a strange intensity in Steve’s words, mixed with barely suppressed righteous rage. “They’ve managed to separate us for a while but jokes on them because Peggy’s gonna kick their asses anyway.” He bared his teeth in a smile more suited for a wolf than a small fluffy dog.

He was fierce. Bucky liked that, even if he could feel the beginning of a headache push against his temples. “I’ll call her for you, but you can’t meet her here,” he bargained. “And don’t say too much about me. I don’t want any trouble.” 

“You have my word, Bucky.”

Bucky retrieved the ancient but still usable cellphone he kept around for emergencies and dialed the number Steve told him. It rang once before the witch picked up.

“Carter.” She sounded a little breathless, like she’d been running. “Yes?”

“Pegs, it’s me,” Steve said, perched on the loveseat’s arm and leaning toward the phone. To anyone except his witch and another familiar his words would sound like the yipping of a dog and nothing else. “Are you fighting jerks without me?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just finished. But I’m sure there’s still plenty of them where those came from. How’s it going on your end?”

Bucky stood up, leaving the cellphone on the seat. The friendly banter between Steve and his witch was stirring up some painful memories, and he had to get away. He hid in his bedroom, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, wondering why the hell there were tears in his eyes, until he heard Steve calling him from the hallway.

“She’s going to pick me up a block from here,” Steve said. His ears tipped back and his tail stopped waggling as he looked up at Bucky and undoubtedly noticed his expression. At least he didn’t comment or ask.

Bucky nodded and, without thinking too much about what he was doing, grabbed his jacket. “Good. I’ll take you there.”

“I don’t need a chaperone, I can take care of myself,” Steve grumbled, which was a pretty funny sound coming from a fluffy dog’s mouth. Bucky knew that if he’d had a tail in that moment it would be swinging lazily in amusement.

“Humor me.” He wasn’t quite ready to let go of that company he’d found. Wasn’t quite ready to go back to his lonely, quiet life.

They walked side to side on the sidewalk, snow beginning to float down from the sky. Bucky noticed that more than one person glanced disapprovingly at him and frowned, confused, before realizing that dogs were supposed to be kept on leashes. He was pretty sure that if he’d mentioned a leash to Steve the familiar would’ve bitten off his hand, though.

Too soon they reached the meeting point. Steve’s witch wasn’t there yet, so Bucky crouched to be on the same level and smiled a little. “Don’t get into trouble again.”

Steve huffed, his ears twitching. He rolled his eyes, which was very weird sight on a dog. “We both know that’s a promise I’ll have to break.”

Despite himself, Bucky laughed.

“You know.” Now Steve’s tone was more serious. “You don’t have to go. You could come stay with us for a while, or something. I mean…” His ears lowered in clear frustration as he struggled to find the right words, teeth flashing for a moment. “What I mean is, you don’t _have_ to be alone.”

The smile vanished from Bucky’s face, and angry bitterness took its place. “Yeah, well.” He tapped the bracelet. “Can’t exactly be seen in polite company, now, can I? They’ll kill me too for using _blood magic_.” He spat it out, like they’d said it when they’d come to destroy his life. Bucky forced himself to chase those thoughts away. “And anyway, I’m just fine on my own.” He softened his voice: “But thank you.” He quickly stood back up, glancing around. “I’d better go, or someone will notice us and yell at me for abandoning my dog.”

“You can only wish I was your dog,” Steve snarked back, no heat behind his words. He sat down on the sidewalk, ears downturned. “It’s goodbye then.”

“Yeah. Goodbye.”

Steve _woofed_ quietly. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes, tail wagging left and right against the pavement. “Maybe I’ll come visit you sometimes.”

“Sure.” Bucky really didn’t see why the other familiar would do that, so he shrugged, waved one last time, and turned. As he walked away, he heard a car pull over, the door opening and a female voice with a neat British accent call out:

“Steve! There you are!”

He hunched in his jacket and sped up, quickly disappearing around the corner.

\---

Two weeks later a sharp knock on his door made him jump a foot in the air, instincts screaming at him to hide under the couch. Bucky didn’t like being startled. Didn’t like when people knocked on their – _his_ , it was just his now – door, neither, because that had always meant trouble – even more so now that he was alone.

He kept completely still, hoping that whoever it was they would go away. But instead of steps leading away from the door, he heard a voice:

“Bucky? Are you in there? It’s me.” The voice was familiar, even if it was deeper than he remembered – and lacking the yapping or growling.

Cautious, Bucky approached the door and opened it a little, just enough to see the person outside: a tall blond man with striking blue eyes smiled brightly at him.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve – because he was undeniably Steve now that he looked at him – said. “How are you?”

Bucky looked over Steve’s shoulder, peered at the stairs. “Where’s your witch?” He couldn’t see her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. Bucky didn’t know why they’d come, but he’d learned the hard way that witches always brought trouble with them.

“She’s waiting around the block, close enough that I can be like this. Why, you want to meet her?” Noticing Bucky’s silence, Steve’s eager smile slipped off his face and he frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“Why are you here?”

“I told you I would visit.” Now Steve was openly confused. “Did you… you didn’t believe me?”

Bucky shrugged, briefly looking into Steve’s blue, earnest eyes and then away. He was surprised when a warm hand landed on his arm.

“We look out for our own,” Steve said, quietly, and somehow it resonated through Bucky’s body as if he’d shouted it.

Bucky sniffled, lowering his head. The stones in his bracelet felt warm against his skin, warmer than usual, as if they were trying to reassure him. “Alright,” he finally said, swallowing the heavy knot in his throat. “Would you like to come in?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you had fun reading this! If you have time please consider leaving a comment :)  
> I'm also on [Tumblr](https://chim-aceyliz.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Chim_aceyliz), come say hi!


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